


The Contact Job

by cheap-perfume-and-gasoline (burning_books)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot Needs A Hug, Eliot gets a hug, F/M, Fluff, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burning_books/pseuds/cheap-perfume-and-gasoline
Summary: It's late and Eliot is back in town from a job. He doesn't know who else to call, so he calls you.Or, Eliot is touch-starved as all hell and just wants to cuddle.
Relationships: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Contact Job

Your phone rang. It was a number you didn't recognize, so you hesitated, but something in you told you to answer it.

"Hello?" you said into the receiver, uncertain.

"(y/n), hey," a familiar voice came through the speaker. "It's Eliot. Are you free tonight?" He sounded breathless.

"Yeah, I am, why?" you asked. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"Everythin's fine, nothin' to worry about. I just, well, I'm finally back in town, just got in 'bout an hour ago. I-I... I wanted to see you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free, did you want me to meet you somewhere?" Your heart skipped a beat or three. You and Eliot had been close friends for a few years now, and knowing that he missed you enough to call this late from whatever phone he could manage to get his hands on felt a little too good.

"No, I mean, uh, d'you mind if I just come to your place? I can be there in... 'bout ten minutes," he said. There was a distinctly anxious note in his voice. You tried not to let it worry you too much.

"Yeah, sure, that's fine. See you then," you replied.

"See ya then," he echoed, and ended the call.

You hurried to put some decent clothes on and brushed your hair a little bit. It wasn't like Eliot hadn't seen you looking worse, but you still couldn't stop the impulse. It had been something like two months since the last time you'd heard from him, and more like six months since the last time you saw him in person.

Suddenly there came a knock on your door, startling you out of your thoughts. You quickly walked over and pulled it open, revealing Eliot standing there, his arms crossed and his shoulders tense.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Hey, come in," you said, leading him by the elbow into the room. You shut and locked the door behind him (it was late, after all), then turned to take in the sight of him: his flannel was wrinkled and grimy, and the hems of his jeans were covered in mud. In fact, he generally looked a mess. He stood, very tense, his eyes fixed on your feet.

"Eliot," you said, and his gaze shifted up to your face. "It's been awhile, huh."

"Yeah."

"Is everything alright? You seem really tense."

His eyes widened. "N-no, no. I'm fine," he stammered, the way he did when he was trying to hide his embarrassment.

"El, relax, it's just me. It hasn't been that long, has it?"

He didn't reply, just dropped his arms to his sides and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. You stepped closer to him, then without warning you wrapped him in a tight hug. After a beat, his arms moved to wrap around you as well.

"Dammit, Eliot, I missed you," you said. He held you tighter, let out a breath. You felt his shoulders relax just slightly.

"I missed you too." His voice came out a gravelly whisper.

You held on to each other like that for a while. It felt a little too good to have him in your arms, your cheek pressed into his chest, his heartbeat in your ear and the familiar smell of his cologne wreathing around you.

It seemed like maybe he felt the same way, based on how he hesitated when you moved to let go, and the way his hands lingered along your arms.

"C'mon, let's go sit down and you can tell me all about your latest adventures," you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling his arm, but he stood his ground. "El?"

"I-I... uh, d-do you mind if I stay here for, um, for the night?"

"No, I don't- I don't mind," you said, a little surprised at the way he stammered and stumbled through the question. Eliot rarely showed this side of himself. You couldn't stop a slight smile from crossing your lips at the sweetness of it. "I'll take the couch, if you want," you offered.

"No, I'm fine on the couch," he said quickly. He ran his free hand - you were still holding his wrist, after all - through his hair, pushing the dark locks back from his face. You let go of him, suddenly self-conscious, and dropped your arm to your side.

"Do you need anything? I know you don't usually travel with much luggage, but if there's anything I can help you bring in, or, um, I think you left some spare clothes the last time you were here..." you trailed off. You couldn't help but worry over him, especially since he hadn't really explained why he was here - and staying the night, of all things. It was abrupt, to say the least, and while that sort of thing wasn't terribly out of the ordinary with him, you still couldn't help the instinct.

"Yeah, no, I, uh. I didn't bring anything with me. Can I, uh, d'you mind if I use your shower?"

"No, I don't mind. There's clean towels in the closet in there, you can help yourself to 'em. I'm gonna go see if I can't find you something clean to wear."

He moved toward the bathroom, then hesitated a moment. "(y/n)?" You watched him take a breath in and then let it out. "Thanks. For... bein' here."

"Of course, El."

He nodded, seeming satisfied, and then disappeared into the bathroom. You heard the water come on and went off to figure out where in the hell you'd stashed his spare clothes. Once you managed to find some, you carried them to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Hey, El?" you called out. "I found some clothes for you."

"Door's unlocked," you heard him yell over the roar of water.

You twisted the handle and stepped in, battling to keep your gaze away from the glass door as you set his clothes down on the counter. You grabbed his dirty clothes to throw in the wash, then ducked back out quickly, before you could think too hard about things like _Eliot_ and _water_ and _glass_ _doors_.

He came out of the bathroom shortly after that, his hair damp and curling, wearing only the sweatpants you found for him. The shirt was thrown over his shoulder. He caught your eye and smiled slightly, already seeming a little more at ease.

"Feel better?" you asked him as you slid over on the couch to make room for him to sit down.

"I feel cleaner, at least," he replied, followed by a low, rumbling chuckle. You couldn't suppress a smile at that; this was the Eliot you knew best. Relaxed and easygoing and just all-around lovely. You watched him pull the shirt over his head as he walked toward the couch. Then he sat down next to you, his thigh bumping into yours. He stayed close, his knee leaning on yours, and while the contact was just a little unusual it definitely wasn't unwelcome.

"So, um, don't take this the wrong way, but... why are you here?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "You know, you could have gone... well, anywhere else. Why here?"

"I..." he hesitated, looked down at his hands, studying his fingers. "Didn't know where else to go."

"Well, usually you just go to your apartment, right?"

"Yeah, I just didn't really wanna be alone, I guess." He was still avoiding looking at you.

"What about Parker and Hardison? Or your other friends?"

"Parker and Hardison had plans, and... we got in too late to bother anybody else. I knew you'd be up, and you'd probably say yes, and when I called I was only plannin' on stayin' an hour or two." He let out a slow breath.

You unconsciously shifted closer to him. "So... what changed?"

"I knew as soon as I got inside I wasn't gonna want to leave. Not tonight. And I didn't figure you'd mind too much if I crashed on your couch." He finally looked up at you, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. You smiled.

"You'd be right. I never mind having you around."

And it was true: your apartment felt so much less empty, even just knowing he was in it. His shoes on the mat next to yours, his voice as he hummed in the shower, and now, him sitting next to you, just breathing, as lost in thought as you were, all filled a hole you never really noticed until he was there to fill it.

His thigh moved to press against yours, though when you looked over he didn't seem to be aware of it.

"So, El," you said finally, "what have you been up to lately? I still wanna hear about all of your adventures."

"Oh, uh-" he shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, then pushed his hair back. "You know. Gettin' my ass beat for a living," he joked, and you grinned.

"What happened to the Great Eliot Spencer, huh? Thought you were the one beating ass," you teased him.

He laughed at that. "I take 'bout as many hits as I land. Difference is knowin' how and when to take 'em."

"Fair enough," you replied, still grinning. You couldn't get over how good it felt to have him next to you. After a beat of appreciating that, you said more seriously, "Hey, if you wanna go to bed just tell me and I'll get out of your way."

He turned his head to look at you. "Nah, I'm not tired yet. Are you?"

You looked back at him, trying not to admire him too openly. "Not yet. We could put a movie on if you want?"

"That sounds good." His soft smile was almost too sweet to handle.

You ended up settling on Tombstone, mostly because you knew it'd make Eliot happy. As the movie ran on, he told you different facts and fragments of stories about the actor and the plot. All the while, he kept shifting closer to you, leaning into your touch, even putting his arm over the back of the couch and around you. You took that particular move as an invitation and snuggled into him more. You felt your heartbeat pick up when you leaned into him, but he just wrapped his arm tighter around you and pulled you in closer.

Finally, you couldn't help but say something. "You're awful cuddly tonight, El." You kept your tone light and a little teasing.

His chin wobbled the way it did when he was caught off-guard, and the slightest hint of a blush tinged his cheeks.

"Well, you know... I get a lot of physical contact but most of it's painful. Violent. A-and you didn't seem to mind, so..." he trailed off.

"Nope, definitely don't mind." You snuggled into his chest to demonstrate the fact, and he put his other arm around you in response. You stayed like that for a while, and he went back to movie trivia.

His voice, his arms, his heartbeat steady against your ear, it was all so warm and achingly familiar. The muscles in his arms flexed, instinctively holding you tighter, closer, like he never wanted to let you go. It felt good. Too good.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you knew the movie was over and you were being carried bridal-style to bed. You let him put you in bed but caught his arm before he could move away. "Stay?"

He looked around the room for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said, and you moved to make room for him in the bed. He climbed in next to you and as soon as he was comfortable you curled up on his chest, wrapping an arm tightly around him. He held you close.

"Goodnight, Eliot," you said softly, a faint smile on your lips.

"Goodnight, (y/n)." As you fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, you could have sworn he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. But you were sleeping before you could decide for sure.


End file.
